


never did believe in the ways of magic

by philthestone



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Gen, i can't believe i've done this but. here we are, i mean it's a whole universe so people show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: It was maybe fifth period and Luke was all but not yet seventeen -- and his birthday was the same date as hers, who'd have thought -- when he looked at her and said, "I'm thinking of forming a secret defense club."Secret clubs that actively opposed their oppressive academic faculty, it turned out, were, of course, exactly the sort of thing Leia enjoyed doing with her spare time.





	1. you make loving fun

**Author's Note:**

> i was going through a hard drive from 4 years ago this afternoon and it had ... a LOT of old, dusty, and questionably good star wars fics on it, so I plucked out all the stuff i genuinely could still look at with my eyeballs and started editing. not sure how many of these there are going to be, but i have a silly sort of soft spot for them, so we'll see. they're all in the same universe, somewhat connected by a vague plot, but they're not chronological and not a working Story, just a collection of small snapshots. 
> 
> work title and all chapter titles are from fleetwood macs 1977 album "rumors". clever, i know.
> 
> who'd have thought there'd come a day where I really posted a harry potter au in all seriousness, huh

“Look, all I’m saying is that you need to be more careful –”

“ _ I  _ need to be more careful.” She raised a disbelieving eyebrow, brown eyes flashing over the  _ Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 _ . “I’m sorry, am I hearing this correctly? Do  _ I _ have a suspected drug dealer with a whole litany of hired hit-wizards  _ and _ who  _ conveniently _ sets up shop right down at the village after  _ my _ ass?”

Han groaned, ignoring her liberal use of italics and tossing down his quill. “ _ Not _ the same thing, and you know it.”

“How, exactly, isn’t it the same thing?” She turned away from him and pretended to reread the instructions written on the blackboard in Professor Mothma’s neat, precise handwriting, dropping her voice to just barely above a whisper. The clamoring background noise of the their first period transfiguration class drowned out her words, but she watched as Han let his eyes flick around them, cautious, before turning them to face her again; transfiguration was a solely Gryffindor class, something that could be both a blessing and a curse. She would have wondered how they’d survived sharing a desk for the past three years without killing each other, but at present there were more pressing issues to worry about, and besides, they  _ hadn’t _ managed to kill each other yet, so one way or another it didn’t really matter. She pursed her lips and watched Wes Janson attempting to sneak a colour-changing charm on Hobbie Klivian’s eyebrows, trying to ignore the burgeoning feeling of anxiety in her gut.

Exhaling loudly, Leia turned back to face her beleaguered desk mate. Having paused in rummaging through his book bag, Han was looking back up at her; one eyebrow was raised expectantly at her under his messy fringe. The top button of his shirt was distractingly undone. 

Leia ignored this.

“Besides which,” she said, “you should be on your guard  _ anyway _ . Running around with that slug wasn’t going to win you any points on anyone’s ledger to begin with, so I have no idea why you  _ started _ –”

“Leia –”

“– And you  _ know _ he has Imperial sympathies, Han, their persecution of muggleborns –”

“I’ll be fine,” said Han, pulling a sheath of parchment out of his bag and waving his hand irritably, absently shooting yellow sparks out the end of his wand. “Jabba’s a slimy bastard that would sell out his own mother, but he’s not about to hand a student over to the Imperials because I pissed him off.”

“No, you’re right,” Leia said, falsely cheerful, flipping to page two hundred and eight with a little more force than necessary. “That’s because he wants to  _ crucio _ you himself.”

“Right,” said Han, a crooked grin flashing over his face. Leia opened her mouth, shoulders tensing, and his expression became serious again, holding up a hand to silence her inevitable lecture. “No, listen. I’ll be fine as long as I stay in the castle, he doesn’t have the guts to show his face here. _You_ , on the other hand, are running around in the middle of the night –”

“ _ Keep your voice down _ ,” hissed Leia, pinching his arm and shooting a nervous glance over her textbook to the front of the room.

“It  _ is _ down,” he growled, voice dropping even lower than before as he rubbed at the spot on his elbow where she pinched him. “And Mothma’s on your side, anyway. So’s Rieekan, great, fine. But gods, Leia, if Palpatine finds out about this they’re not gonna let you off easily!”

Leia glared at him. Her fingers gripped the edges of the book tightly, almost white, and she wished they weren’t in the middle of class so she wouldn’t have to resort to furious whispering over a kriffing in-class transfiguration assignment. “By  _ they _ you mean our darling headmaster and his lap dogs?” He opened his mouth to retort and she let out a frustrated noise, cutting him off. “You  _ know _ why we’ve started that, and I still don’t understand why you won’t agree to join –”

“First of all,” said Han, ticking it off on his finger, “his  _ lap dogs _ happen to include a psychopath in black robes who you have a  _ history _ with –” Leia made an angry noise, stomach twisting “– and  _ second _ , second, it’s suicidal and crazy, that’s why.” He tapped the dark wooden tip of his wand against his temple. “And I come to all your meetings anyway.”

“ _ Exactly _ my point –”

“Just to make sure you don’t get yourselves  _ killed _ , princess. Luke’s even crazier than you are.”

“We’ll be completely fine without your  _ protection, _ Solo, and stop calling me that!”

Han jabbed a finger in her face, voice low and fierce. “You’re not gonna change anything if you get yourself killed, Leia, and you know it.”

“They  _ won’t _ kill me,” Leia hissed, poking him back. “ _ Pureblood _ , remember?”

“That doesn’t make you immune –”

“It damn well does and you  _ know _ it.” He scowled at her parroting of his words, and she lifted the book up again to cover her face and leaned in, voice still in a furious whisper. “If Palpatine’s got Tarkin running around the school, how do we know he’s not going to start bagging students within the next month? Tarkin’s as Imperial as they get!”

“I know that.” Han’s eyebrows were creased, his green eyes darkening. “I  _ know _ that, but I’m just –”

“Worried, yes, I know, I’m  _ touched _ , Han, I really am.”

“I’m not  _ worried _ ,” he snapped, a little more loudly than before. “I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”

Leia felt her temper rise, face heating and fingers digging into the cover of her book. “I cannot believe  _ you are _ lecturing  _ me _ on stupidity.”

“Well –”

“Miss Organa and Mister Solo, if you are  _ quite _ done with your little lover’s spat at the back of my classroom, I would very much appreciate it if you might let me conclude my lesson.”

Professor Mothma’s voice was as clear and as composed as usual, its melodic contralto cutting across the classroom and causing Leia to start in her seat. The head of Ravenclaw House lifted a white-robed arm and tapped the blackboard pointedly with the tip of her wand, vanishing the day’s instructions and replacing them with homework. Han swore under his breath beside her. On the side of the room, Wes snickered into his copy of  _ Standard Book of Spells _ and Hobbie gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’m – I – sorry, Professor,” Leia said, delivering a sharp kick to Han’s ankle under the table and hoping that her cheeks weren’t flushing red. She wished absently that Luke could have had her schedule so that she could spend her next free period ranting without interruption. Preferably in the library. With something she could hit. “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” said Mothma, raising an eyebrow and turning back to the rest of the class. “As I was saying, self-transfiguration is a tricky and sometimes nasty business, and it’s not to be done without fully understanding the theory first. I expect two feet of parchment on my desk by Wednesday …”

By the time Mothma had finished assigning homework and the ringing of the bell cut through the chorus of muffled groans that rippled through the class (“It’s  _ Quidditch _ this weekend, Professor!”), Leia had packed up her belongings and was ready to push through the door and into the hallway a good five steps ahead of Han. He caught up to her outside the door to the girl’s bathrooms, books stuffed haphazardly into his bag and tie hanging undone around his neck. He wasn’t out of breath in the least, which only served to further Leia’s irritation.

“So it’s free period.”

“I’m going to the library,” she said sharply, refusing to look at him, fingers curling around the strap of her bag as she pushed her way through the crowded hallway. “To work on Mothma’s essay. See you at lunch.”

“C’mon, your worship, it’s a Friday –”

“Which means that I’m going to spend my whole evening being uselessly unproductive,  _ and _ it’s Quidditch tomorrow, unless you’d forgotten which is a pretty damned bad sign seeing as your captain of the kriffing team –”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry!” snapped Han, loud over the bustle of the hallway. “Go to the damn library, I was just tryin’a make a point earlier –”

“I  _ am _ being careful,” said Leia, whirling around and glaring up at him. “I’m being the most careful I could possibly be, but the way things are going it’s only going to get worst and forgive me if  _ I _ don’t want to see  _ you _ get killed either, or anyone else, actually, and this is the only way I can see that’s going to make any difference in that!”

“Leia –”

“And for Merlin’s sake, button your damn shirt up!”

She turned away before he could say anything, before she could think about what had just come out of her mouth, and hoisted her swinging bag more securely over her shoulder, marching down the hallway and almost knocking over a frightened-looking second year in the process. She kept her eyes trained on the people in front of her. On where she was putting her feet. One in front of the other. And took a deep breath.

It was a Friday. It was a  _ Friday _ . She was  _ not _ going to be angry all day because Han was being an idiot. Again.

_ Damn _ it.

She felt someone’s warm arm brush hers and scowled at the floor, her spine tensing up.

_ And damn his stupidly long legs, too. _

“Hey, princess.”

Leia felt her shoulders slump in resignation. “How many times do I –”

“Have to tell me that pureblood status doesn’t equal royalty? Ah, I dunno, probably forever.” She stopped walking, and he stopped with her, turning inwards to nudge her arm with his. The number of students in the hallway had dwindled, most of them having found their way to their respective second period classes. She looked up and saw him smiling, mouth lifted up crookedly and hands stuffed into his pockets. “Your nose scrunches up all cute when I do it, so I can’t really see any good reason to stop.”

She sighed, biting down on her lip to stop herself from doing something stupid like smiling. “Well, it’s ridiculous and you shouldn’t.”

Han just shrugged again, grin widening. “Sure, your highness.”

“Are you just going to stand there all day like the idiot you are?”

“Nah, I’m probably coming with you to the library. Also –” He made a face, reaching up to impulsively rub the back of his neck with a free hand. “I’d say sorry for being an ass, but you weren’t that great yourself.”

Leia frowned. “I wasn’t the one who started the conversation.”

“Well that’s just –” Han opened his mouth, and closed it, hand dropping back to his side. His eyebrows creased and he pressed his mouth into a thin line, and Leia ignored the little voice in the back of her head telling her to stop being so irrational.

(“ _ I’m  _ not _ worried –“ _ )

The window on the far side of the hall cast mottled shadows across his shoulders and cheek, one patch of his hair appeared lighter than it usually was as his eyes moved from her face to the wall behind her and he shook his head. “Yeah, I guess not. Well, anyway, see you at lunch.”

“What?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“What what? What’d I do now?”

Leia rolled her eyes. “You were coming to the library?”

He shrugged again, hazel eyes flashing with something indiscernible before hoisting his slipping, overstuffed bag further up his shoulder and turning to start down the hall. She recognized the familiar, ominous tilt of his mouth, so different from his flashing eyes of a second ago or the angry, serious set of his jaw in class earlier a moment before he spoke: “I figured you’d get more work done without me there to distract you with my undone buttons.”

Leia felt herself make a funny choking sound at the back of her throat, determinedly ignoring the sudden burning in her cheeks, the way his stupid mouth could throw her off so easily, his stupid ability to change the direction of the entire conversation with one throwaway comment –

“I am  _ not _ distracted by your buttons. Or any part of you, for that matter, Han, you –”

Han’s smirk widened and he deliberately reached up and buttoned his collar, fingers slow and meticulous, leaving her glaring at his back as he walked the rest of the way down the hall in the direction of the common room.

She felt the embarrassed tension in her chest dissipate, twist and change, be replaced by a nervous buzz that had everything to do with their earlier conversation ( _ “I’m not  _ worried _ ,”  _ he had snapped, and she could hear the words playing over in her head on a broken record, harsh and too-quick off his tongue) and nothing to do with his stupid eyes or messy hair or ridiculous undone shirt. He turned the corner and her fingers tugged the shoulder of her robe back into place. It must have gotten disheveled in her rush from the classroom, she thought, fumbling with the fabric.

The library. She needed the library.

_ Damn _ .

 


	2. sweet wonderful you

“I hate the rain.”

Leia looked up at the dripping, mud-drenched figure that had just collapsed into the seat across from her and raised an eyebrow, quill hovering over her sheath of parchment.

“You know Master Yoda doesn’t like it when students drip rivers of mud in his library, right?”

Hobbie’s muffled groan sounded from where his face had planted itself into the table. The scarlet colour of his robes was almost indistinguishable through all the muck, and he’d not bothered to remove his wrist pads before using his arms to pillow his head. On his right, Wes dropped his own bag onto the floor and took a seat, looking remarkably dry and chipper alongside his sodden companion.

“He says he doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass,” he translated, leaning over and peering at Leia’s textbook. “Say, is that Tarkin’s essay on –”

“ _ No _ , you’re not copying off me, do your own,” said Leia, tugging her notes out of Wes’s reach as she reached over to poke the immobile Hobbie with the tip of her quill.

Hobbie groaned again.

“Bad practice?” guessed Leia.

“There’s a godsforsaken maelstrom going out there,” agreed Wes, rummaging through his bag and tossing wads of crumpled parchment onto the table. On her other side, Wedge Antilles made a face and pushed one of the wads off of  _ Advanced Potion Making _ and onto the floor.

“Which you weren’t in, I’m assuming,” said Winter, graciously moving aside her books to make room for Wes and giving Leia a wry smile. Leia shook her head in amusement and turned back to her notes. “ _ The potency of the dose of amortentia delivered …” _

“Course not,” said Wes, his head still ducked under his table as he tossed two broken quills onto Leia’s notes. “I hopped down to the kitchens for an evening snack.”

Hobbie’s voice sounded against wooden table, muffled.

Wes’s head reappeared with a raised eyebrow. “What was that mate?”

“I said you’re a bloody wanker, Janson,” growled Hobbie into the desk, voice still muffled and not bothering to lift up his head.

“You do know I’m not  _ actually _ on your team, right? That I’m not obligated to share you suffering?” Wes’s head ducked down again. “Thank Merlin, too. I’m just the commentator.”

Leia sighed, shaking her head, and turned back to her homework. The incessant downpour of rain had by no means improved anyone’s morning. Or afternoon.  _ Or _ evening, as it looked by Hobbie’s quiet moaning. And she’d been feeling the beginnings of a headache press against her skull all day long, too. Chewing on the tip of her quill, she scanned the passage in front of her, frowning involuntarily at the memory of the cold smile Tarkin had given her that morning before assigning the essay; five feet – five _ kriffing  _ feet of parchment, researching amortentia and all its related properties.

_ That bastard did this on purpose _ , Leia thought viciously, dotting an  _ i _ with perhaps a little more force than necessary.  _ Completely _ on purpose.

Leia hated potions.

_ “Amortenia is most widely known as one of the most potent love potions available to wizards, its use documented across the pages of wizarding history all the way back to 1789 …” _

The cold, damp atmosphere of the dungeons wasn’t particularly appealing to begin with, never mind that the professor seemed to have a personal vendetta against her, and Leia’s strengths had always lain in transfiguration and charms work. And defense lessons, Leia thought, if you were listening to Luke talk. Her staunch and loyal supporter in everything they ever undertook, right from the moment he sat down in her compartment on the train –

She frowned at page twenty-seven of  _ Advanced Potion Making _ and glanced up at the row of bookshelves across from them. Luke had gotten up to find a book on healing charms nearly ten minutes ago and hadn’t returned yet, and Leia could feel the beginnings of the ever-present curtain of anxiety hanging at the back of her mind start twitching. Of course, he could’ve just been having difficulty finding the thing. Or even more likely, he’d been cornered by the knee-high librarian and lectured on the focus required for mastering non-verbal spells, something Luke had struggled with since their introduction the previous year.

Shoving her anxiety to the back of her mind forcefully, she concentrated once more on the page in front of her.

“ _ Each person will smell something different when faced with the potion, the scents they experience indicative of different things they love, or are extremely close and important to their lives _ …”

Luke would be back within the next minute, Leia told herself firmly, rereading the passage again and deliberately ignoring the memory of that morning’s potions lesson and the pot of amortentia bubbling in front of them with its several distinctive smells wafting through the class distractingly. The library was not nearly the complex maze of mystery that some people -- she glanced briefly at Wes -- claimed it was. Certainly, he couldn’t have gotten  _ lost _ . He’d be back and they could pack up their things and manage to sneak off to the Room of Requirement before curfew with Wedge and Wes and Hobbie, if he was up for it, and Winter would cover for them even though she was in Ravenclaw because she was just great like that, and –

“I’m telling you,” Wes Janson’s loud voice cut through her jumbled thoughts again. “The rain’s coming down in buckets!”

From his spot face-planted into the table, Hobbie made an unintelligible sound of distress.

Putting down her quill with a sharp sigh and wondering if she’d get any more potions homework done that night at all, she gave Hobbie’s wet mop of a hair a sympathetic look. “That bad, huh?”

“Let’s put it this way,” said Wes, having finally emerged from his perusal of his bag clutching a brightly wrapped package of Bertie Bott’s in his hand triumphantly. “If Gryffindor doesn’t thrash Ravenclaw on Saturday, the whole team might just off themselves.” He paused in plucking a sweet from the opened box and nodded in Winter’s direction. “Er, no offense, Organa.”

“None taken, Wes.”

Wedge shook his head, grinning bemusedly and not bothering to look up from his own essay.

“You know, sometimes I’m thankful for the fact that  _ Luke’s _ our captain.”

Hobbie mumbled something against the table and Wes nodded in agreement, popping a bean into his mouth. “Right on, Klivian.”

Leia raised an expectant eyebrow. “Yes?”

“He said it’s too bad we won the cup from under Hufflepuff’s nose last year,” said Wes, and then wrinkled nose and stuck out his tongue in disgust, gagging.

“Serves you right,” said Wedge under his breath, scribbling down a sentence. “’ _ Amortentia’s been banned by the _ …’ hell, Leia, do you have any idea what this is on about?”

“It’s a minor form of mind control – you know, no freedom of will, that stuff – so it’s been banned for use without a license,” said Leia, looking back down at her essay absently. “Page twenty-six, in the margin.”

Wedge made a noise of acknowledgement and Wes examined a yellow-tinged bean critically, his eyes narrowed.

“If you betray me, baby, we’re over.”

“Janson, you’re talking to a bean.”

“Screw off Antilles. Can I copy off your essay when you’re done?”

“ _ No _ .”

Hobbie groaned something and Wes shook his head, nibbling at the edge of the bean experimentally. “Nah, essay’s not due ‘til Monday. These whacks are just working ahead.” He paused, bean hovering in the air in front of his mouth, and frowned. “Hey, speaking of Luke –”

“We weren’t,” said Wedge, eyes narrowed at a passage on the use of newt liver and its aphrodisiac properties. “But go on.”

“Yes, we  _ were _ ,” said Wes, popping the bean in his mouth, “but fine, for the sake of group unity, I’ll say we were talking about  _ our _ insane team captain instead.”

A distinctly unflattering phrase sounded from the general vicinity of Hobbie’s head.

“Well it’s not  _ my _ fault Leia’ boyfriend is a complete madman, Klivian, so stop being a baby.”

“He’s not my –”

“Semantics,” said Wes, waving his hand and cutting off Leia’s protests. Leia ignored the infuriatingly knowing smile Winter didn’t bother to hide behind her textbook and glared at him.

Predictably, Wes pretended not to notice. “That’s not the point, Other Organa. The point,  _ as _ I was so eloquently wondering before  _ someone _ interrupted me, is the question, where  _ is _ young Skywalker on this fine autumn’s eve?”

“He went to find a book,” said Leia, frowning at Wes’s sunny smile. “But that was almost fifteen minutes ago.”

“He’ll be back,” said Winter, flipping a page in her textbook and tucking a lock of her white hair behind her ear. The blue silk of her tie was done up as immaculately and neatly as it had been that morning, sharp contrast to Leia’s loosened collar and Wedge’s lumpy cardigan. “It’s probably just difficult to find – you know how charms texts are.”

“Yeah,” muttered Leia, glancing up at her.  _ He’ll be back in time _ , Winter’s eyes said. And the follow-up:  _ libraries aren’t consummate danger zones, Leia _ . Leia scowled at her for the implied gentle reprimand of her stubborn paranoia and chewed on her lip. Speaking openly about their late-night meetings, even in the quiet seclusion of the library, was still unwise. Leia could think of a few students who’d eagerly rat them out to Tarkin – or worst, Headmaster Palpatine himself.

“Well –”

Wes’s sentence was interrupted by a loud  _ thunk _ as a new book bag was dropped on the table.

“I swear,” said Evaan, looking freshly-showered and dragging a chair behind her, sitting down across from Leia. “I  _ swear _ , if he ever pulls another practice like that one, I’ll move to Timbuktu.”

“Where is Han, anyway?” asked Wedge, looking up from his potions homework with a grin. “Did the good captain drown in the storm?”

“Showers,” said Wes promptly, around a mouthful of beans. “Or maybe Verlaine committed murder, who knows.”

Leia looked at Evaan with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, even if I  _ had _ ,” said the sixth year, defensive, “I would’ve totally been justified. Even Madame Syndulla told us we were mad going around in a storm like this, and she’s almost as crazy as Solo. But don’t worry, his ass is mostly intact.” She paused, looking disappointed, and then grinned. “Though, Bridger accidentally knocked a bludger his way at one point.”

“ _ Accidentally _ ,” muttered Hobbie into the woodwork, voice mutinous, and Leia felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile.

“Well,” she said casually -- because contrary to popular belief, the state of Han’s ass was of absolutely no concern to her -- tucking a loose strand of her hair back into her braid and turning back to her notes, “so long as he doesn’t slip and die in the shower -- we’ll never beat Ravenclaw on Saturday short one chaser.”

“Wonderful sentiment, Organa, really,” said Wes, examining another bean - purple, this time. He frowned, looking down at Hobbie. “Speaking of – why the hell aren’t  _ you _ in the showers?”

Hobbie’s “I don’t want to effing move my  _ legs _ , that’s why,” was drowned out by the sound of someone tripping and knocking into a bookshelf, followed swiftly by muffled swearing. Leia looked up, tense, just as Luke stumbled out from behind one of the bookshelves clutching three books and looking pale.

“Leia,” he said, picking himself up from the floor and tugging at his robes to straighten them, “I need to talk to you.”

“What –”

“Not here,” he clarified, blue eyes flicking to the gathered company. “Privately – oh, hullo, Wes, Hobbie – Evaan –”

“Hey, Luke,” said Evaan bemusedly. “What’s up?”

“Did you find your book alright?” asked Winter quietly, and Luke shook his head.

“I found a whole lot more than my book,” he said, voice lowering. “I heard – I overheard people talking, in the back corner behind the restricted section.” 

He took a deep breath, and in the half-moment that took him, Leia was refamiliarized with the keen iciness of dread. 

“They know.”

Leia felt her fingers go numb.

“What do you mean?”

Luke looked grim, blond hair tousled, clutching the large, bound books to his chest and shaking his head. Wes had stopped in the act of choosing a suitable Bertie Bott’s bean, and Wedge had abandoned his essay altogether, fingers gripping the edge of the table.  Even Hobbie had stiffened, raising his head from the table to stare at Luke. Evaan was visibly chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Winter put down her quill and looked at Luke, apprehensive, her thin eyebrows creasing in the middle.

“Luke?”

“Piett – you know, that guy from Slytherin? And some others. They know where we’re meeting.”

Leia vaguely registered Wedge swearing loudly, uncouthly, before she heard the words come out of her own mouth:

“ _ Shit _ .”


	3. would you stay if she promised you heaven?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set 2 years before the 1st two shots; some vague background for the 5 of u reading this ... also im just now realizing that most of these are focused on han/leia but what can u do i guess
> 
> titles from fleetwood mac as usual

“So Quidditch today.”

Leia turned a page of the Prophet that was propped up against the orange juice pitcher. “Mmm.”

The boy in front of her -- and Leia was starting to seriously consider reviving her old description of said "boy" -- "bane of her existence" was far more accurate -- leaned forward and propped up his elbows on the table. His bright red robes stood out in contrast against the dark wood of the table’s surface, and his hands, which were wrapped in athletic tape in preparation for the upcoming match, rested close to her own, a fact of which she was uncomfortably aware.

“Are you at least coming out to watch?”

She frowned. “A house full of people just off the coast was raided yesterday. They say they think Vader’s behind it.”

She had gotten a letter from her father just yesterday, reminding her to keep quiet and stay low. Things were getting increasingly dangerous, he'd said. Politics were even less safe an arena than they were before, and the masked, hulking figure that she had so brazenly conversed with as a child was no longer only a threat in concept.

Proof, though, Bail had said. They needed proof.

“Are you even listening to me?”

"I don't buy it," said Leia, though the tips of her fingers had gone slightly cold. "A house full of _people_. As though we don't all know that these bastards took out the entire old Order not even two decades ago -- hey!" 

Because Han had reached one of his unfortunately long arms across the table and yanked the paper out of her hands.

"I told you to stop readin' this stuff, it just gets you all worked up. And keep your voice down about the old Order, willya?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Leia said, trying in vain to repossess her newspaper and ignoring the unanticipated tremble in her voice, "some of us at this table are actually _concerned_ about the pathetic state of our surroundings --"

"And that's really great of you, Leia, but you know what's more important?"

Han leaned forward again, matching Leia's frown with an earnest expression, eyebrows raised with sincerity. She remembered abruptly that he'd been there when Tarkin had delivered his thinly veiled threat to her last year, and seen her face pale each time she'd re-read her father's letters by the common room fire. One hand had closed around hers over the table as he continued to infuriatingly hold the paper under his seat, and Leia hesitated in her attempt to pull her hand out of his. 

_It just gets you all worked up_.

The memories of Vader's imposing figure, so tall when standing next to her loved ones, crept back in behind her eyes. Leia shook herself, letting her hand fall loose in Han's.

"What?" she asked, tone careful.

Han grinned.

"Are you coming to the game today?"

Leia groaned, loudly.

“Have I ever missed a game?” she asked, monotone, attempting to muster up her most unimpressed look and finally yanking her hand out from under his.

“Well, no,” Han allowed, tapping his now-empty fingers against the table and his chin, respectively. The little scar that he'd gotten last year when Erso from Slytherin accidentally knocked a bludger at his face is still visible under his fingers. “Except for that time in fourth year when you got hexed by that bastard in Ravenclaw.”

"Thanks for dragging up bad memories," deadpanned Leia, helping herself to a piece of toast. "May I have my paper back now, please?"

"Sorry, no. Some of us at this table want to become concerned about the pathetic state of our surroundings."

"Oh, stick it up your ass, Solo."

He winked at her. Leia very much did not appreciate this, deciding that she regretted the day she ever decided to agree to a this odd friendship truce they had going on after four years of loud yelling in corridors. It was for the sake of Luke, she reminded herself, and her close friendship with Han's cat, who she maintained should really have been born a dog. Even after a year, playing nice with Han was still sometimes the most infuriating thing she had ever done, barring Tarkin's potions class and dealing with her two elderly aunts.

Especially when she caught herself doing silly things like valuing his presence in her life, or staring at the stupid yet somehow roughish scar on his chin.

So there he was, back to being the bane of Leia's existence, now for a whole new set of reasons.

"Anyway," Han continued, unphased, "you know my opinions on all this stuff."

“Yes," said Leia, dry as her toast, an inflection which she personally thought he deserved: "run the opposite direction."

"Oh, come on, Princess --"

"Headmaster Palpatine may be an old creep, but he’s not a _proven_ mass murderer,” said Leia, beginning to studiously butter her toast and ignoring the -- yes, _infuriating_ \-- nickname.

“Mothma and Kenobi and the other teachers all hate him, Leia. And Tarkin’s still a bastard, you know that.”

 _“That_ , I will allow. But you can’t accuse the headmaster of something this big without significant proof. You have to play politics.”

“Whatever." Han had wrinkled his nose at the mention of politics. "You still didn’t answer my question.”

“ _What_ question?”

“You haven’t told me who you’re rooting for this game." 

“Is _that_ what this is all about?” She looked up to find him holding an almost comically serious expression and raised an eyebrow, hand poised midair and gripping the butterknife. The loyal butterknife, at least, had never given her this much grief at the breakfast table.

He mirrored her raised eyebrow with both of his, which somewhat ruined the effect.

She sighed.

“It’s Quidditch. It’s not life-or-death.”

“Actually,” came a new voice, as a cheerful Wes Janson sat himself down at the Gryffindor table beside Han, Hobbie Klivian in tow. “Sometimes it is.”

“That’s not what I meant, Wes,” said Leia wearily, as Han snorted into his pumpkin juice, bringing his other arm back up to rest against the table and foolishly putting the newspaper back within Leia's reach.

“This one time,” Hobbie added, “some guy in the world cup nearly split his skull in half –”

“Yes, _alright_ ,” said Leia, seizing her opportunity to reach across lighting fast and reclaim her paper. She raised her eyebrows as primly as she was able at Han's spluttering and delicately turned a page of the now-crumpled news, refusing to break eye contact. “I’m personally hoping that you all will be among today’s causalities.”

“Ah, you don’t mean that, your Highnessness,” said Han, recovering enough to reach across the table and help himself to a piece of her arduously buttered toast.

Revenge, apparently.

She didn't _entirely_ mind. Better not to show any signs of weakness, though.

“Just because my mother was a pureblood doesn’t mean I’m royalty, Han,” said Leia, injecting as much cold into her voice as she was able with crumbs on her fingers and glaring at him and her stolen toast.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Ignorant muggleborn here, remember?”

“Han.”

Wes sniggered through his mouthful of scrambled eggs, and Leia looked away from the Prophet in time to catch Luke’s eye across the room where he was sitting with Wedge Antilles. Friendship with Luke, Leia thought, was nowhere near this complicated. Possibly the easiest thing in her life. Their canary-yellow robes were cheerful and bright, and she returned the grin Luke shot her enthusiastically.

“Hey, pass me the sausages, would you?”

“Why yes, Captain Solo, I can.”

“Screw _off, Derek_.”

“Call me again by my real name and I’ll hex your balls off, Solo.”

She turned back to her housemates and pursed her lips, perhaps because she had suddenly realized that the tight knot of anger at the pit of her stomach that had started to tighten with her reading of the Prophet had all but gone away.

“You three don’t seem very nervous.”

“’S ‘cause we’re gonna w’n,” Han told her through a mouth full of sausage. She wrinkled her nose.

“Sometimes I’m surprised you can get your broom of the ground with a head that big.”

“It’s not arrogance, Princess, it’s confidence,” he countered, swallowing his sausage. “And besides –-” He grinned mischievously “–- you like it.”

She sighed through her nose and turned back to her paper, holding back a foolish blush through sheer, stubborn force of will. “I don’t know where you get your delusions, flyboy. And Luke’s a great seeker, so I’d watch out if I were you.”

“Sure, but the rest of the team are –- well, _Hufflepuffs_.”

 _“Han,”_ said Leia, shooting him a stern look. “They’re all good players. And besides, Luke’s Hufflepuff too.”

“Yeah, but he’s cool,” supplied Wes from Han’s left. Hobbie snorted ungracefully into his breakfast.

“Agreed,” said Han. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Shit, we’ve gotta go. You ready, Klivian?”

“Ready as ever, Cap. See you, Leia!”

Leia turned towards Han, who was stuffing his things into his bag and extracting his long limbs from behind the breakfast table. She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"As you can see, _Captain_ Solo, most people who know me don't subject me to twenty questions over the jam jar."

Han took a whole moment to contort his face into an annoyed expression before schooling it back into his favorite lopsided grin.

“You know what you should do?" he seemed to decide. "You should try out for the team.” Leia watched Hobbie disappear in the crowd to find the rest of their teammates, Wes trailing behind and muttering something about needed to find Professor Mothma and sort out the commentary.

“Um, no.”

“What? You’re a damn good flyer.”

“Yes, but I’d prefer not to risk my neck over a leather ball, thank you very much. Watching you is quite enough for me.”

"Watching me, huh? Ah, I knew you had it bad for me, Princess."

Leia did not dignify this with a response, only lifting her chin up a little higher as she walked. She made it all the way with him towards the Entrance Hall out of habit, navigating through the masses of yellow and red; she could see Luke past the big double doors, heading towards the pitch through the front gates, laughing with his teammates.

“I’d better go, Leia. See you after the match?”

“Most likely,” she replied, looking up at him. “Why?”

“Well, it’ll be a helluva after-party,” said Han, grinning. She pressed her lips together and looked at him; something about the crookedness of his mouth threw her off.

“You _are_ nervous, aren’t you?” she realized, a slow smile creeping up her lips. “You’re worried you’ll mess up and Luke’ll catch the snitch too soon for you to have an advantage in goals.”

He scowled, but there was a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, right -–”

“Yes you are!” She was giggling now, and suddenly it occurred to her that the nervousness could have very little to do with goals and all to do with personal loyalties. Having startled herself, Leia for the first time that morning felt a blush heating up her own cheeks. “Go on, _Captain_ ," she said, hastily, to cover up her own flustering. "Admit it; you’re scared you won’t have time to amaze us all with your so-called goal-scoring abilities –”

“Now wait just a second, your worship –”

Leia could only think that she must have lost all sense as she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good luck, you idiot.” The nearly dilapidated paper crumpled in her fist crinkled as she pulled out her Gryffindor scarf from her school bag and started to deliberately wind it around her neck, not noticing how Han was valiantly fighting a huge smile.

"I gotta -- go now."

"Mmhmm," said Leia, still very focused on her scarf. “And of _course_ I’m rooting for Gryffindor," she continued, absently, hoping that it wasn't obvious how nervous she'd suddenly gotten. "Just because Luke’s my friend too doesn’t mean I’d abandon my own house --”

“See you, Leia.”

Leia looked up, eyes wide, only to catch the back of Han's robes disappearing around the doorway out towards the field. She probably would have stood there a little stupidly for quite a while longer had it not been for the gentle growl that came from somewhere around the vicinity of her feet.

Leia startled, then frowned at the annoyingly perceptive cat that had appeared at her ankles to bestow judgement upon Leia's pink cheeks. "Oh, don't give me that look," she said.

Chewie only growled again, looking infuriatingly knowing. Leia huffed, tugging at her too-tight scarf.

Rooting for Gryffindor, indeed.


End file.
